


I'm right here in front of you

by StayStrongNWM, xxxxwitlee



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Azriel is so done, Cassian is a drama-queen, Caution: Mild ACOWAR spoilers!, Cazriel, Crack Treated Seriously, Eventual Smut, Feyre's ships never sail, I don't know, I got issues, I hope, I'll pray to the Cauldron, Inner Circle - Freeform, M/M, Mates, Maybe - Freeform, Post-War, Rhysand is an old man, Rhysand is rarely helpful, Ship problems in The House of Wind, So Much Sexual Tension, Somewhere - Someday - Somehow, The Night Court, Then they go better, Then they go even worse, There's so much angst please don't hate me, There's too many feels to feel, Things Go Wrong, Unrequited - Requited mates, Why did I even submit to this, i can't anymore, i think, so much frustration, thE PAIN IS REAL, the angst is real, we'll never know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-14 04:24:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11200386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StayStrongNWM/pseuds/StayStrongNWM, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxxwitlee/pseuds/xxxxwitlee
Summary: It only takes them about 450 years to figure it out - and then some.Thén they have yet to figure each other out.Being mates is hard, painfully hard.





	1. The revelation

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a crack fic. Then there was pain.
> 
> My co-writer likes to torture me - she made me read the filth out loud.  
> Then I had to pay her back; but I seem to write angst a tad too vividly. 
> 
> Needless to say: tears were shed & we both almost died.
> 
> Caution: Mild ACOWAR spoilers!

Azriel walks into the study, looking for some distraction. Letting his fingers trace the spines of the books on the shelves, he grabs the first one that catches his eye. A bright green cover reveals cursive golden letters. Bonds & Mates. Not giving the title a second thought, he sits down on the couch, and flips open the book. He is a few chapters in and realises with a start, that he could always read Cassian better than others. He thought it was because they have been friends since childhood, basically brothers, but it's not because of their bond as friends, or as family. Everything in the book states that you can tell the bond is present when you and your mate can read each other's moods, the other’s wants and needs. He now knew his suspicions were correct. Cassian got in a _lot_ of moods, and he knew how to fix them. At the time he did not know why. He just did it. Azriel places the book on the table next to him, stretches his limbs and wings out on the couch, and releases a sigh.

 

He relaxes against the armrest and stared at the opposite wall. He always knew what to do with the warrior, how to get Cassian to relax and smile, especially when everyone else was close to desperate on how to get him to  _ stop _ . He also noticed that whenever  _ he _ was in a pinch or in a bad mood; Cassian would suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, come and try to cheer him up.

 

——————————————————

 

Azriel now knew the mating bond had snapped into place just before they went to the High Lord’s meeting. He had felt it the moment Cassian walked in after days of being absent. He hadn’t seen the warrior ever since they had fought during the attack on the Summer Court. Just as Azriel opened his mouth to say something - anything - to Cassian, Nesta bolted down the stairs to snap at him. “So, you’re alive” the Archeron sister stated, more so than asked. Instead of Cassian turning towards Azriel to acknowledge him, he turned to Nesta and asked: “Were you hoping otherwise?” Azriel could almost  _ feel _ the snarl on Cassian’s face as he bared his teeth in a feral grin and his wings flared in silent annoyance. “You didn’t come to-” Nesta did not finish her sentence, and stopped herself to simply lock eyes with Cassian, starting what seemed to be a staring contest. Azriel knew then that he could sense, could  _ feel deep in his bones _ , what the others were simply looking at. Not saying another word, or acknowledging the fire between them, Cassian reached for her hand - and she did not refuse it. Azriel kept his eyes on his unrequited mate, until they’d vanished when Mor winnowed them away. It now explained the sudden confusion and emptiness he had felt.

 

Perhaps that could have explained his extreme outburst against Eris during the meeting with the High Lords as well. Yes, he  _ had _ been angry, and defensive of Mor, but the unexplained pain, the anger,  _ the pang of betrayal _ he’d felt that moment; it made him lash out even more. When Azriel looked back on it he realised that Cassian had been the first to try and get to him, not simply to be the one to  _ stop  _ him, but more to  **get** to him. Yet Cassian too, had met with his shield of blue light, and when Feyre had finally gotten Azriel to release Eris, Cassian had barely spared him a look, simply placing Nesta far away from the Shadow Singer, and giving his comfort silently to Mor.

 

——————————————————

 

It has been about two months since they defeated the king of Hybern. A heavy sigh left Azriel’s lips as he slowly tried to stretch his wings even further from his body, too lazy to move his entire body. The sun was shining through the window of the study and he could maybe catch a few rays if he spread them  _ just a bit more- _

 

It was the sudden feeling of  sheer  _ frustration _ that had him snap out of his relaxed state and tuck his wings back in, closer to his tensing shoulders. Cassian was seeking him out, and he felt him get closer and _ closer _ . Each step closer made him hold his breath a bit higher in his throat, and his heart race just a tad more frantic.

 

The studies’ door flew open and Cassian bursted through. Entering as dramatic as possible; one arm slung over his eyes, lips moving in a scowl.  _ Each time he saw him, his breath was knocked from his body. The way the warrior moved, his wild hand gestures, those lips that kept moving and -  _ **_shit, he wasn't listening_. **

 

“What do I  _ do _ Az?” Cassian closes the door of the study and walks over to the couch Azriel is lounging on. “No matter what I do, she just  _ won't  _ like me.” A heavy sigh left his body, and Cassian’s shoulders slumped even deeper. All the while Azriel had a hard time not looking at his lips. The same lips now getting wetted with a tongue and bit harshly on in frustration.

 

“Don’t bite your lips Cassian, you know it’s a bad habit.” Azriel stared at the man's lips just a tad longer, before he tore away his gaze and looked into those hazel eyes. Desperation and confusion, mixed with some anger and want; Azriel could  _ feel  _ the conflicting emotions fight somewhere deep inside him.  **If only you knew your mate was so close. All this fuss would be for naught.** **_Then again, would you be as happy and frustrated realising you could be mine, as much as you are - to have a chance to be hers. If you’d realise the bond, we share, as well?_ **

 

——————————————————

 

He felt himself almost choke on his own spit when Cassian was suddenly right in front of him, spreading his knees apart and placing his broad body in between his legs, swiftly cutting off his train of thought.

 

“You still didn’t answer me, Az-” it sounded close to a whine. The big male was currently making himself comfortable in his lap; laying with his upper body between his legs, arms around his middle and chin pressed to his lower stomach.  _ This was ...  _ **_too_ ** _ close. He could feel Cassian’s breath ghost softly over his abdomen. The warm, big hands on his lower back - the warrior in front of him had no idea what he was doing to him, and it drove Azriel mad. _ **_Why - oh Cauldron why - did I change out of my fighting gear?_ **

 

“I can't!” Azriel snapped harsher than he intended to, in his attempt to get himself back in check. “What do you want me to say? -” He continued, voice softer now. “Pounce on her the minute you see her? You know you’ll lose both your hands ánd your private parts.” He crossed his arms and clenched his hands into fists against his ribs. Azriel hoped it would hide how fast his heart was beating, but at the very least it would most definitely prevent him from running his hands through those strands of dark hair splayed out on his lap. “Plus-”He added, taking in a breath. “Feyre would probably not hold back from releasing herself upon you if you touch her sister without her consent.”

 

A frustrated groan left the warrior’s body and Azriel felt the vibration of it against his skin, where Cassian’s nose was pressed against his abdomen, just below his navel.  _ This was too much. This position, the warmth, Cass was going to- No, he _ **_is_ ** _ killing him - and by the Mother, he doesn't even  _ **_know_ ** _ it. Plus, how was he too deal with the effect this fool had on him? _

 

Cassian relaxed against Azriel’s stomach as he pondered on the Shadow Singer’s words. He feels frustrated, lost, and disorientated. Yet, like this, in Azriel’s presence, he feels a soothing calm flow over him as well. He feels the bond deep inside his chest, but Nesta said she didn't feel anything, at all. Nor does she have any feelings whatsoever towards him. Like Azriel said; if he would even lift so much as a finger towards Nesta, and it's not consented… He might really lose a limb or two.

 

——————————————————

 

Cass stays like that for a while, loosing track of time. Neither of them says a thing. After some time, he feels Azriel’s muscles relax slightly, the Shadow Singer easing just a tad into their embrace. He sighs then, unfolding his arms from their previous clasp around his chest. “Cassian?” Azriel asks, softly -  _ so softly _ , Cassian thinks he might cry upon hearing it, his heart clenching in a foreign way. Maybe it’s because Az thinks he might start crying if he’d speak too loudly, or maybe it’s because the Spymaster is afraid to break him were he to say too much, or perhaps it’s just that Azriel thought Cassian had fallen asleep - the warrior feels it then. A tingle through the string tied so soundly in his chest; a tinge that tremors delightedly through his whole body in response.  _ The bond.  _ He thinks, lifting up his face from Azriel’s stomach, looking the man before him in the eye. And - Azriel thinks, maybe he felt that. For Azriel felt the exact shiver down his spine, like soft fingers dancing over his skin. So when Cassian looks up at him, he cocks his head in silent question - as if to ask  _ “Did you feel that, then? Did you feel that too? Do you understand now?”  _

 

He gets his answer the moment Cassian stands up, and takes a few steps away from him, as if in some trance. The warrior looks back at him when he’s at the door, halts his body to do so, and simply says; “I’m sorry Az. Thank you for always being there for me. I’ve got to go now.” Then he leaves. The door shuts softly behind him; no trace of the drama-queen left, and Azriel is alone.

 

——————————————————

 

Azriel stares at the closed door for a long time. By the time he forces his body to move, his muscles near scream in protest. He wills his wings away, sighing at the weight taken off his back, no matter the weight of Cassian’s leave. He then spends a long time debating whether to pick up from where he left off in the book he was reading, but he can’t seem to make himself do it. His thoughts swirl around him like actual demons in the intruding darkness. Where Azriel normally feels confident, safe inside the shadows, the sundown makes the unease in him grow. Still, he doesn’t move from his spot on the couch.

 

His head pounds with thoughts, unanswered questions.  _ Did Cassian really not understand, that what he felt just now was  _ **_not_ ** _ Nesta? Not Nesta, but  _ **_him_ ** _. Or, did this bond Azriel could feel so vividly, so alive, only live and breathe inside his own chest. Did Azriel’s bond lead to nowhere at all? _ Like that, Azriel sat, thinking, brooding. Contemplating and reliving every single memory he could recall of interactions between him and Cassian. It wasn’t long before his eyes started drooping with exhaustion, and he could barely hold them open any longer.

 

——————————————————

 

He knows it’s Cassian the moment the door opens again, a bit less flamboyant than the first time he’d burst in; still not enough for Azriel’s heart not to skip a few beats. Before he says anything, he notices the bottle of liquor in Cassian’s hand as said warrior stumbles back towards the couch. Azriel’s hands find themselves held up in some weird gesture as Cassian takes his place on his lap once more, snuggling into the Shadow Singer’s warmth and sighing contently. He lets Cassian rant, filters out anything regarding mates, love, and  _ Nesta _ , because he  **just** , **can’t** , bear it. Azriel listens though, as he’s always done, because he knows,  _ knows _ Cassian just needs him to listen right now. Needs to let it out. So he does.

 

It takes a few moments for Azriel to realise Cassian’s fallen asleep, but a soft smile, reserved only for him, plays over his lips. Affectionate, he realises, lovingly. Slowly, as in not to wake Cassian, Azriel takes the near empty bottle from his hand, and places it beside his discarded book. Then, without hesitation, Azriel allows himself to thread his scarred hands, with slightly trembling fingers, through Cassian’s dark hair. 

 

——————————————————

 

Azriel snaps out of his haze, not realising he’d been dozing off when Cassian stirs in his lap. Hazel eyes meet his, but he doesn’t break from their entanglement on the couch. “You know, Az-” Cassian whispers, and it’s almost weird to think he could be so quiet, yet the following words seem to be  **_screamed_ ** into Azriel’s face. “It’d be so much  _ easier _ if you were my mate.” 

 

Azriel doesn’t think he’s breathing. Maybe he’s dreaming. Maybe it’s an illusion. 

 

“It’s so  _ easy _ to  **love** you, Azriel”

 

The moment the words leave Cassian’s mouth, his hands fly up to cover it; eyes wide in shock. Amidst his waking, his rambling, he’s found himself straddling Azriel’s lap; his knees on either side of the Shadow Singer’s hips. Cassian is pressed  _ so close _ to Azriel, that his whole body shudders,  _ thrums _ , at their position. With a jolt, Cass feels the bond.  **The bond** . It’s then that he realises, every time the commander has  _ felt _ this, and written it off as being  _ Nesta _ ,  he’d always,  **always** been in close proximity of  _ Azriel _ .

 

Azriel sees the realisation of it cross over Cassian’s face in slowmotion. Then, a frown forms, ever so slowly. Cassian whines, hides his face in the crook of Azriel’s neck, and  _ Azriel feels his  _ **_lips_ ** _ brush his skin there, just above his pulse.  _ “Azriel-” He whispers against his collarbone, “do you think I’m drunk?”

 

——————————————————

 

Azriel doesn’t know how he manages it, wills his body colder,  _ colder _ , with his shadows. Forces himself to  **calm down** . Softly, he pushes Cassian from his body, just far enough to be able to look him in the eyes. He shoves all impure thoughts out of his head,  _ orders  _ himself  **not** to think about Cassian’s breath on his skin, Cassian’s  _ lips _ on his pulse, Cassian sitting on his lap,  _ Cassian pressed to his body;  _ **_Cassian_ ** . 

 

“Cass-” Azriel starts, his voice uncharacteristically uneven, so he tries again. “Cassian, look at me. Tell me what you mean.” The Shadow Singer can’t risk getting his hopes up too high, can’t risk allowing the faint warm, happy feeling that’s started somewhere deep in his chest to spread any further. Cassian tries. He shuffles uneasily on Azriel’s lap, and it takes  _ all _ of Az’s willpower  **not** to  _ react _ ; not to snap at him to  **_stop moving_ ** , not to  _ place his hands on Cassian’s hips _ .

 

So Cassian tries again, twiddles with his thumbs, not meeting Azriel’s eyes, and tries to explain; yet all that leaves his lips are liquor induced confessions. Cass goes from telling him how thankful, how  _ grateful _ he is for having Azriel in his life. To have Azriel put up with the  _ shit _ he pulls, respect him, and  love him, regardless of it all. To have Azriel support him, and  _ care _ for him, at all times, without any conditions. How  _ at ease _ he is around the Shadow Singer, and how much he enjoys their time together, because - he says -  _ because sometimes I feel like our time together is the only time I feel truly  _ **_happy_ ** _ , Azriel. The only time I feel really  _ **_alive_ ** . 

 

“And - And,” Cassian heaves a breath, as if he’s been running for miles on end, because he couldn’t seem to get the words out quick enough. “ _ And that is why I  _ **_love_ ** _ you, Azriel” _

 

Azriel doesn’t reply, doesn’t blink, doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. He doesn’t dare to break Cassian out of his drunken haze. Physically  _ can’t  _ risk Cassian  **feeling** all this, and all that  **he** feels, and run back to Nesta; because Azriel doesn’t know how  **_not_ ** to break. Not when that happens. So he sits, and he doesn’t move an inch, and he doesn’t look at anything at all, so he doesn’t see Cassian’s hand lift slowly, tentatively to caress his cheek, and he  _ flinches _ . He  **_flinches_ ** when Cass’ hand cups his cheek, he tries to speak - to reply, but all that comes out is a soft,  _ broken _ whimper. He looks up then, sees the worry in Cassian’s eyes, as he asks: “Are you alright, Az?” Azriel whines deep in his throat at the contact, leaning into the warmth of Cassian’s touch; stroking too gently against the shell of his ear, his fingertips carefully brushing along his hairline, and closes his eyes. 

 

——————————————————

 

“Azriel?” It takes some time and a couple repeats of his name for Azriel’s eyes to shift to Cassian’s again. It takes a heartbeat loud in his ears to realise he hasn't taken a breath in a while, and when he does the intake of oxygen dizzies him in a way stars dance before his eyes and he sways even when he's sitting down. All Azriel knows is the weight of Cassian still on his thighs, and now both his calloused hands holding his face. It's easy to understand that he's hyperventilating, but he can't seem to stop it despite the knowledge. 

 

“Az-” He hears the worry in Cassian's voice, frantic in a way he can't really grasp. “Azriel- Please. You need to breathe. Listen to me!” But all Azriel feels is how Cassian is trying clumsily to scramble off his lap, and before he knows it his hands are fisted in the fabric of the warrior’s shirt, so tight his skin turns white over his knuckles. Without knowing he's started he hears himself chant words, and an incomprehensible mix of Cassian’s name and pleads. 

 

‘Don't-’ Is all he manages between gulps of air, that burns in his throat, and he isn't stupid enough to try and convince himself the warm, wet trickle down his cheeks aren't tears. Cassian stills, and Azriel is sure he's done it then. Disgusted him, scared him off, send him right back to Nesta, and try he might but he can't hate her for it. For Azriel has confined himself to years of solitude and lonely nights in the cold dark of his shadows, and even this - Cassian’s still, warm hands so painfully gentle on his face, and the warrior’s - he realises - trembling thighs on either side of his hips are a luxury the Shadow Singer doesn't allow himself to deserve.

 

And so his thrashing stops. His hands drop so quick from their hold on Cassian’s shirt that the fall to the cold leather of the couch would make him flinch if it wasn't for his seemingly failing muscles. His words come to silence, and even his breathing stills again in an eerie way. As if to say - “Okay. It's okay. You can go, I understand”. 

 

But Cassian doesn't move, waits for a slight sliver of Azriel’s sanity to return to him, and the moment the Shadow Singer collects enough courage to look into Cass’ eyes after his outburst, Cassian lets out a shaky breath, let his right hand fall from Azriel’s face to the place just above his frantic heartbeat, and says:

 

“Azriel. You're my mate”

 

——————————————————

 

Azriel physically feels his breath knocked out of him as if someone’s punched him right in the gut. With his closed eyes he can see it - see the bridge made of Illyrian steel that reaches from him, from his mind, his soul, his heart, straight to Cassian. He tries and tries but he can't see the end of it, and the more he tries, the longer the bridge stretches in length. Azriel knows it's his fear, his insecurities, his crumbled self esteem, but at that very moment, despite their close proximity; Cassian feels miles and miles away from him. His heart clenches painfully as his mind plays nasty tricks on him. The poisonous thoughts come faster than any happy emotion ever could at Cassian’s words.  _ Cassian is still drunk. Cassian doesn't know what he's saying. Cassian deserves more than him. Cassian is in love with Nesta. Nesta is Cassian’s mate. Cassian is Nesta’s mate. Cassian deserves better. _

 

He doesn't even know it happens until he feels a harsh wind slap him in the face, and his eyes shoot open. Azriel find himself atop a mountain, fairly sure said mountain isn't even in Night Court territory. Yet his breathing is calmer and his heart still aches but it's slightly more bearable now, and easier to keep in check. The cold wind makes quick work of erasing the warmth of Cassian’s lingering touch from his skin. Like this, it's easier. Easier to place himself back in the position he belongs in. Friend. Brother. Someone who’s still and watches, never engages. The one who gives comfort but never needs it, and leaves his sorrow for his shadows. 

 

Azriel walks until his legs start aching, and then he pushes himself off the ground, and flies. Away. Away. So far into the cold, snowy mountains he can get, and then some more. As long as the only thing on his mind is flying techniques, and battle strategy, and the dull numb that settles in his underclothed limbs from the cold. As long as his mind is  _ almost, almost  _ completely void of a certain male, and the longing, the painful longing in his chest that he doesn't care to admit overrules all other ounce of pain he feels.

 

——————————————————

 

_ Cassian is roaring. Roaring so primitively Rhysand slams open the door but keeps his mate protectively behind his back, ready to pounce him if he must. The couch is quickly shredded in sheer ferocity, and he can't remember ever feeling so painfully  _ **_empty_ ** _ before. It takes a while to register the people talking to him, to understand his High Lord is practically  _ **_ordering_ ** _ him to stand down. He tries. Yet all he feels is the imprint Azriel’s skin left on his hands from where he held him, and the sick tickle of his mate’s tears over his skin, and he doesn't understand how could have ever been so  _ **_stupid_ ** _.  _

 

_ He only notices his wings are out and strained, ready to take off, and take off quickly, when he pushes harshly past Rhysand to find the nearest exit. The High Lord knows better than to question it, but still; there’s some sense in Cassian left that grits his teeth, grinds them together and says: “I have to find him”. He doesn't stop to see if Rhysand understands or not, but he doesn't stop him. All Cassian hears is the literal crack of the stone balcony under him as he pushes himself up into the air.  _

 

_ Cassian tries. Tries to reason with the fury burning deep inside his chest, tries to dull it just enough so he can reach - reach towards that bond. If he could  _ **_just_ ** _ find him. He flies, and fast he goes, his energy doesn't falter, even when he's left the Night Court two entire courts behind him. All that his mind is screaming at him, so loud he doesn't know if it's  _ **_him_ ** _ actually shouting it, is his mates name. _

 

_ Azriel. Azriel.  _ **_Azriel_ ** _.  _ **_Azriel_ ** _. _

 

——————————————————

 

_ When Cassian comes back, the stone balcony is repaired, and there's a new couch in the place of the one he destroyed in his rage. He sneers, tries to summon his anger, but he's burned out and exhausted, and  _ **_he hasn’t found him_ ** _. He wishes the terror away, but all he comes up with is awful loathing and sadness. The absence of his mate weighs so heavily on his shoulders that his knees hit the floor before he makes it even halfway through the room. The anger, he thinks, the anger was better. Better than this. Way better than the physical pain he feels with every breath he takes, every beat of his heart, and he almost wishes it all to stop, to  _ **_stop_ ** _. Because the string that binds him to Azriel is pulled tight, and with every breath he takes it seems to tighten, tighten, pull him further and further away. It hurts, it hurts and he’s afraid, he's  _ **_scared_ ** _ \- he realises. Scared that it'll snap. That it'll break. Cassian’s heart is hanging on a tightrope in his ribcage and he  _ **_can't get it to stop hurting_ ** _.  _

 

_ Then come the tears. The anger and frustration he felt towards himself quickly transformed, and he  _ **_cries_ ** _. He doesn't know how to stop, and he pounds his fist into the floor, wills himself to  _ _ breathe _ _ , but he can't. He can't because Azriel is his mate. Azriel is his mate  _ **_and he didn't know_ ** _. He’s been so, so stupid. So blind. His mate was right in front of him for centuries and he - did - not - know. _

 

_ So when Rhysand knocks softly on the door after hours of crying, and Cassian finally thinks it's stopped and that he hasn't got anything in him left, the moment Rhysand says “Cassian?”, all that leaves his mouth; in hoarse words is: _

 

**_“Azriel is my mate”_ **

 

_ His High Lord isn't his Lord now, but his friend, his brother, he hauls him up from the floor and lays him down on the bed - _ _ Azriel’s bed _ _ -, and all he does is soothe him and will him to sleep. _

 

_ Cassian is tired. So tired. He can't fight it anymore. So he falls asleep, and dreams of Illyrian wings even larger than his own, and cold, calming shadows. Then he dreams of shattering all that, and breaking his Singer, and he wakes up screaming,  _ **_screaming_ ** _. Bathed in sweat, with fresh tears in his eyes, tangled suffocatingly in sheets, he wakes. _

 

_ That's how it goes. For five nights in a row, Cassian has terror nightmares. To the point he spends the dark hours awake, afraid to sleep, trying uselessly to find a way to his mate through the bond, and fails.  _

 

——————————————————

 

“Azriel…?”

 

It's not very often his High Lord’s voice finds its way into Azriel’s head so  _ tentatively _ . Slowly, he allows himself to give indication that he’s heard Rhysand. The questioning tone leaves completely as orders fill his mind, his brother in full High Lord mode.

 

“You come here now. There's been sightings of the last remainders of Hybern’s followers and I'm not about to let them slip from our hands again”

 

Azriel doesn't reply, nods his head despite that Rhysand isn't actually there to see him do it. A part of him tells him he can do it. He can go back. He can face whatever he’ll come home to, if it's even still to be called home.

 

His thoughts fill with scenario’s that he could return to.  _ Cassian is happily mated to Nesta. Nesta has finally accepted their bond. Cassian is  _ _ happy _ _.  _ Worse then, maybe:  _ Cassian is furious at him. Cassian is indifferent, spares him no thought, ignores him. Cassian forgot what happened, too wasted to remember. Cassian is  _ **_gone_ ** .

 

The other, bigger part of him knows he can't do it.  _ Can't _ . That's the part of him that has kept him awake at night with terrible, awful visions, nightmares, all the like. One even more nauseating than the other. It is the part that has had him screaming into the forest until no sound leaves his lips anymore so that he is certain he won’t wake anyone with shouts of terror in the night, or sleep induced cries of his mate’s name. 

 

The very same part of him that seemed to have put a black veil over the shining Illyrian steel bridge, so darkness is all that lingers. Maybe, Azriel thinks,  _ maybe _ that can be my saving. Perhaps it's enough to have the bond appear as if it's never been there. A lightless, empty bridge, tremor inducing cold, leading to nowhere.

 

His heart ached at the thought. 

 

Azriel prepared himself slowly, slower than ever before, to winnow back to the Night Court. Debated flying back, just so it'd take longer. Maybe he could even walk. 

 

“Now, Azriel” Came Rhysand’s voice.

 

The command left no room for debating.

 

——————————————————


	2. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mating bond acceptance starter kit; Cazriel
> 
> \- Avoid mate  
> \- Get hurt  
> \- Get emotionally wrecked  
> \- Kitchen

Perhaps it was to be considered cowardly; but try he might, Azriel _couldn't_ make himself **do** it. So he didn't. He'd asked Rhysand to send him the coordinates; the whereabouts of the Hybern scum, and told him he'd deal with them. His High Lord hesitated, but had given in. Azriel wouldn't have to go back. At least not now.

 

 _And_ , he thought with a frown, _I also_ **_don't_ ** _have to think about it_. He flew swiftly, quickly - more at ease in the sky than he was on his feet, his shadows merging with the looming thunder clouds.

 

—————————————————

 

 _Battle strategy_. Azriel would swoop in from high above, like an eagle barrelling, smashing down on its prey. They would never see him coming and it'd be over in an instant, no messy fighting or risks of getting injured.

 

His veins thrummed with the anticipation; not because of the killing, no. He'd never truly get used to that - wouldn't _want_ to get used to that. No, what thrilled in his veins was the fact that Azriel had a **purpose** now; a target for his anger, his pain, his _frustration_ . It was easy to replace the cause of all his burning, festering emotions. Easy to convince anyone, - and if he tried hard enough, **_himself_ ** \- that his boiling rage had to do with the memories of the war. His fallen brothers, his injured family, how much he'd lost, and the thought of how much he _could've_ lost.

 

——————————————————

 

Like this, Azriel could allow his mind to wander. His mind wouldn't betray him now, high in the air, the wind slapping him in the face felt a little too much like comfort. He ran his thoughts over every possibility, every situation that might occur, every outcome of this nearing battle. Azriel hadn't felt so at ease in **weeks** . The facts and insights lined up neatly in his memories; the quickest way to force his wings in airdrop, the small, thin knife hidden just under the belt of his Illyrian fighting leathers. _Silent death_ , he'd called it. A quick, inevitable death. An act of mercy, really.

 

They'd quickly figured out there was no reasoning with Hybern’s followers, no matter how hard they'd tried. Rhysand had offered them sanctuary, food, _safety_ , **_peace_ ** ; and they'd jumped straight in the High Lord’s path, ready to wrap their hands around his throat. They didn't get that far, obviously. Rhys had shattered their minds without a second thought. And so the High Lord’s orders were simple; _locate_ , and **_eliminate_ **. Do it fast, and do it thoroughly, and most important of all; make sure you don't get caught.

 

Azriel didn't really understand why Rhysand had cut him the slack of agreeing to let him leave without coming to see him first, but he was thankful for it. A part of him knew that Rhys understood. Knew that Azriel _dealt_ with things this way. Disappearing into the shadows was Azriel’s way of setting his thoughts straight. _By not thinking about them_ . He scolded himself with a frown. Even **not** thinking about his problems lead him to thinking about what he did to not think about his problems. An inevitable circle that ended up right back where he started. _Damn it_.

 

——————————————————

 

He was getting closer to The Night Court now. The realisation only dawned upon him when it started to _rain_ \- it hardly **ever** rained - at the exact same moment a horrible, _terrible_ sense of dread filled him. Filled him until it was like the agony flowed slowly through his veins, and he _breathed_ it through his lungs. **_Mate_**. It called to a primal part of him. A part that roared and screamed and clawed at the inside of his chest. A part that demanded him to _protect_ , and _care_ , and **_comfort_**. His heart _ached_ at the want, the **_need_** for -

 

**_“Cassian”_ **

 

——————————————————

 

It was barely a gasp, a whisper, Azriel didn’t even know it had tumbled over his lips before his hand grasped, scratched at the skin just above his heart, as if he'd been _hit_ , been **_struck_ ** . He looked down in shock, but there _was nothing there_ ; no wound, no blood. Only burning pain.

 

Azriel realised with a start that his pain simply matched Cassian’s. He breathed deeply a couple of times, trying to steady his racing heartbeat. Patiently, he allowed himself to sort out the feelings one by one; the ferocity first - anger, raging, roaring fury. Then the pain - simmering, spreading, creeping dreadfully slowly from his heart to the tips of his very fingers.  There was agony, dread, suffocating loneliness, _such heavy_ **_emptiness_ ** . Azriel then felt the worry - panicking, terrifying worry. _Directed at_ **_him_ ** . He could almost _feel_ Cassian’s heartbeat, like it was calling to him.

 

**_Azriel. Azriel. Azriel._ **

 

——————————————————

 

It takes an arrow to his shoulder and the physical pain that accompanies it to shake Azriel out of his reverie. Another arrow barely misses his eye, scrapes his cheekbone in the process, and he feels the warmth of blood trickling down his cheek.

 

_So far for not getting caught._

 

It has him quickly pulling up his shields however, both mental and physical. The siphons gleaming with a newfound purpose; to fight. He proceeds to force his thoughts back into the battle strategy, back into the mission at hand. Scenario: No advantage of surprise; he must act quick. The storm now truly breaks loose; deafening rainfall, darkening skies thundering, and flashing with lightning. Azriel’s blood pumps in his ears at the flanking drop he makes to loose height.

 

One of the daggers he throws finds its target quickly; comes to a halt buried to the hilt inside the neck of a forlorn Hybern soldier. The other misses the killing blow, but catches one of Azriel’s opponents in the thigh, sending the man to his knees with a shout. More then, as he makes way to land on a safe distance, an open spot in the grass field. All the knifes get dodged; Azriel curses. He must reach the ground faster, he’s outnumbered and in disadvantage while still in the air; an open target.

 

The next arrow hits Azriel’s right wing, too close to his shoulder to keep in the scream of pain that rips from his throat. He can’t seem to pinpoint where the arrows are shot from, but he reaches the ground nonetheless, albeit a bit wobbly. The blue of his shield finds its way across his wing to stop the bleeding, but there’s a lot of damage done. Azriel draws his sword in his right hand, truth-teller in his left.

 

——————————————————

 

It’s a messy fight, but a fight that’s won quickly; the Hybern soldiers lack a leader, a purpose, and more than that: they were defeated long before their fight against the Shadow Singer. It takes Azriel a rough hour to take them down. Nearly thirty of them. Dead. Their last words pleads for The Mother, prayers to The Cauldron, or words of venom spat at Azriel. Some even praise the dead King of Hybern with their dying breaths.

 

When it’s over, he lets himself fall onto his knees; his head tilted back to bare his face and his neck to the sky, to the pouring rain. He’s alive; he reminds himself. The war is over. This is just another fight, another mission. Even if the flashbacks of the first war and the second play behind his closed eyes like a sickening nightmare. He’s okay, despite the cuts and scrapes spread out on his body, despite the two arrows that went right through the membrane of his right wing, and the one still stuck in his shoulder, despite the stab wound in his upper arm, and the other just above his hip. He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s okay.

 

——————————————————

 

After sitting like that for what seems like hours, he opts for winnowing back. Azriel is soaked to the bone, shivering, and bleeding. He couldn’t fly back if he tried. He’s empty. Burned out. There’s no worry in him now, no anxiety, he doesn’t even feel the pain he’s sure he’s supposed to feel. And so he winnows back.

 

He winnows straight into the living room of the House of Wind, and falls back onto his knees there.

 

——————————————————

 

Cassian wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to hear the words _“Azriel is on a mission.”_ He couldn’t **stop** the ringing in his ears after Rhysand paled, and said _“Azriel is injured.”_ He couldn’t keep the deep sense of sheer _terror_ from swallowing him whole.

 

Azriel on a mission. Azriel injured. _Mission_ . **_Injured_ **.

 

The moment Cassian dropped his head onto Nesta’s shoulder in near defeat, the room filled itself with the weak, so _weak_ , cold and dark of Azriel’s shadows. The entire room went silent, safe for the nauseating _thud_ of Az’s knees dropping to the floor, accompanied by a pained sigh. For all Cassian’s eyes could’ve fallen on - Azriel’s bleeding thigh, Azriel’s bleeding hip, Azriel’s bleeding _hands_ , Azriel’s bleeding shoulder with an _arrow_ still lodged deep into his skin, Azriel’s bleeding, _torn_ , right **_wing_ ** \- he instantly locks **eyes** with his mate.

 

He realised his position then; his head resting on _Nesta’s_ shoulder, his side pressed to hers, his right leg aligned to her thigh from his hip to his knee. He _saw_ , **_felt_ ** the realisation dawn upon Azriel - the _hurt_ flashing over his face, just before his features hardened; and Cassian knew. **_Knew_ ** Azriel was going to run - flee, _winnow_ , **_disappear into his shadows, again_ **. So he bolted for him the moment Azriel stood up. Caught him just in time for his hand to latch onto Azriel’s cold, wet hand.

 

——————————————————

 

The feel of Cassian’s warm hand on his stopped Azriel dead in his tracks. It was as if his entire body was _paralysed_ . His hand was cold, and wet, filthy with mud and blood mixed and caked on his skin - but Cassian’s hand was _so warm,_ **_so soft_ ** , **_so right_ ** . It took all of Azriel to look up into his mate’s eyes, and when he did, it stole his breath away in a way he could have fallen to his knees again, were it not for Cass’ fingers interlocked with his. The worry swirling in the hazel eyes, the _love_ , the complete **_adoration_ **. Azriel was speechless, left to feel nothing of all his pain, solely Cassian’s hand in his, and only look into his eyes.

 

Then Cassian leaned down, _and_ **_kissed_ ** _him._

 

——————————————————

 

The next thing that registered, was the shrill sound of shattering porcelain, and both males whipped around to see Mor standing in the doorway, a puddle of tea amidst shards surrounding her feet; a shocked, _flabbergasted_ expression on her features. They simply stared at each other, until Amren snorted loudly, announcing her departure, but not before clapping Cassian on the shoulder, and saying; “Was about time, you overgrown bat.”

 

Feyre’s shocked eyes trailed from Mor, back to Azriel and Cassian, towards her mate; who did not look the least bit surprised. Rhysand turned to look at Feyre, a silent conversation playing out through their bond, exchanging looks before The High Lady exclaimed; “What the hell do you mean, ‘you already knew’?!” Mor seemed to collect herself again, pulling out of her shocked daze, and finally tearing her eyes from the Illyrians in the middle of the room to her friend. “What did he already know? What is going on? What did Amren mean with ‘it was about time’?” Before either of them could reply, Cassian blurted out;

 

 _“Azriel is my_ **_mate_ ** . _”_

 

——————————————————

 

It was the harsh sound of skin on skin that had everyone’s eyes shoot straight back to the two men. Azriel had pulled his still bleeding hand from Cassian’s and slapped it straight across the warrior’s face. The moment he realised what he’d done, he looked awfully conflicted about it. The Shadow Singer seemed to open his mouth as if to say something, instead he pulled his lips into a thin line, opted for saying nothing, and disappeared into the shadows with a frown on his face. Leaving everybody in complete stupor, and Cassian, once again left behind by his mate.

 

——————————————————

 

“Wha- What did I do wrong?” Cassian blurted, hand softly cradling his cheek and pouting sadly. “You mean, aside from getting slapped across the face?” Rhysand said, trying to stifle his laughter. The warrior slumps back into his seat, far away from Nesta, curling into himself. “I didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable, I- It just felt so _right_ to finally **_say_ ** it out **loud**.”

He doesn’t look up when someone sits down next to him, but he knows it’s Mor, the moment the rainfall of questions floods over him. “So… You and Azriel, are _mates_ ?! Like, did he **_accept_ ** the bond? Are you two _together_ now? When did this even happen?! But -” Her rambles cease the moment Cassian holds up his hand in silent plea for her to stop talking. “I don’t _know_ , Morrigan.” He snapped grumpily.

 

Cassian stands up, not saying another word - needing to be _alone_ , needing **_time_ ** , needing Azriel; but that wasn’t really an option right now. So he leaves for his room to ponder about how to fix this. Behind him he can still hear his friends bickering over the newfound information. He is almost across the hall when his High Lady snaps at her husband to go after him, and **_do_ ** something - _anything_ to fix this.

 

——————————————————

 

Cassian knows it’s Rhysand, still, the soft knocks on his door make his heart skip a few beats. “Come in.” He says, only loud enough for his voice to travel through the wooden door. He’s not dramatic. He’s not. He’s only draped his entire body over the covers of his bed, with an arm slung over his eyes, and he sighs a sigh so deep when Rhysand walks in; he could’ve set a new record with it.

 

He can hear Rhysand walk towards him, feels the weight on the bed as he sits down next to him. “Cassian?” His High Lord prompts just as Cassian turns around to hide his face against the pillows. The warrior lets out a long whine. “I messed up Rhys,” he mumbles, almost inaudible. “I really messed up.” Rhysand laughs softly, then, a hand on his shoulder that wills him to turn around and look his friend in the eyes. “You didn’t, Cass. You just need to- Clarify, explain that you didn’t mean to make Azriel uncomfortable.”

 

Cassian nods pathetically, pouting again. “I didn’t, I swear. I know, I _know_ how Az is - but I… I- He’s my **_mate_**. He’s my mate, and he was back, and he was injured - And I couldn’t, **couldn’t** _stop_ myself.” Rhysand looks down at him in understanding and pats him on the back. “I know, Cassian. How about you go freshen yourself up, take a shower, then make yourself some food; so that you can think about how to apologise to Azriel?” Only after Cassian nods once more and drags himself towards the bathroom, does Rhysand stand up to leave the bedroom.

 

——————————————————

 

“Azriel?”

 

Azriel opens his bedroom door to find his High Lord leaning against the doorpost, smiling softly at him. He’s just done showering off the mud and blood after his mission, wincing slightly at his injuries. “Come on,” Rhysand says, walking into the room. “Let’s see to which extent I can heal you, and then get you bandaged up.”

 

Azriel is silent when Rhysand tries his hardest to be gentle, pulling the arrow out of his shoulder. He doesn’t say a word as his friend runs his healing hands over his stab wounds, only groans in pain when the faint burning feeling transfers to his wounded wing. When Rhys starts quietly binding his battered skin, he looks at him from time to time, as if expecting Azriel to start speaking. He doesn’t.

 

“Az, look-” The Lord says with a sigh, finishing the last set of bandages and securing it carefully around Azriel’s shoulder. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, at least, not right now - but maybe it’s a good idea to go down and make yourself some food. You need nutrition so that your injuries can heal faster.” The Shadow Singer simply nods, thanking his brother for tending to him; then walking towards the stairs that lead to the kitchen.

 

——————————————————

 

Azriel can _hear_ the High Lord and the High Lady arguing from the kitchen. He’s cutting bread, making neat slices. He winces every now and then because _she did_ **_not_ ** _just say that to the most powerful High Lord ever_.

 

_A door slams shut by the hands of the High Lady._

_The same door opens again, softly this time - The careful High Lord._

_“Feyre, darling”_

_“I’m not talking to you”_

_“What- but, baby, why not?”_

_“You didn’t tell me about Cassian and Azriel”_

 

He drowns it out then, focussing on the movement of his hand, the sound of the knife cutting through the tomatoes. His mind drifts, however. _I can’t believe I_ **_slapped_ ** _him._ Azriel realises with a start that he should probably go and apologise - like, _right_ **_now_ **.

 

So Azriel abandons his sandwich and turns around only to nearly bump into Cassian’s chest in the process. All that leaves his mouth, is a simple _“oh.”_

 

——————————————————

 

Cassian hadn’t expected Azriel to even _be_ in the kitchen, let alone turning so abruptly he almost bumped into him; yet the sound leaving Azriel’s lips turned a part of him into gooey mush, and he dumbly copied the sound. “Oh.”

 

He realised Azriel had left a perfectly made sandwich on a plate on the counter, and wondered faintly why his mate would make food and then simply turn to walk away from it. Still, Cassian came here with a goal, with a mission, so he doesn’t hesitate to simply start off a rambling rant.

 

“Azriel - Az, I’m so sorry about what happened before. I really, really didn’t mean to make you so _uncomfortable_ , I **swear**. I just - I… I saw you, and, and you were _there_ , **_home_** , but - You were _injured_ , and I could **_feel_ ** your… Your pain. Not -” He took a deep breath, Azriel now a bit further away from him, back at the kitchen counter. “Not just your _physical_ pain, Az- but **_everything_ ** . From your injuries to your anxiety, to your worry, and- your _sadness_ , **_sadness_** , when you looked at me, when you locked eyes with me, not because - Not because… _But because I was leaning against_ **_Nesta_**.”

 

Azriel had turned away from him by then, and tears burned painfully in Cassian’s eyes, because he could _feel_ it now, that sadness of his mate. Still though, he had to - even if it was over before it had even been able to begin - he _had_ to **say** these things to Azriel. He **_had_ ** to make sure that he _knew,_ **_knew_ ** that Cassian was sorry, and - and that he **_loved_ ** him, even if he’d handled it poorly. The warrior took another deep breath, to steady his shaky voice, and continued.

 

“And, Azriel - I _saw_ what you thought then. But - But it wasn’t, it’s **not** _that_. Az, when you left… I was a mess. I looked for you. I flew over three courts to try and find you, but you were _gone_ , **_gone_** , Azriel. I- I never knew that the absence o-of… That absence itself could feel _so_ ** _heavy_**. When I finally returned, I - I cried, and I told Rhysand, because I **had** to _tell_ somebody. I thought - _hoped_ \- **_prayed_** , you’d be back the next day, but you _weren’t_ , and - then the day after, you **_didn’t_** come back, and I- I…”

 

Cassian drops himself heavily onto one of the kitchen chairs, sighing to try and keep himself in check. He takes a few breaths, watches Azriel’s hands move to work on something on the counter that he couldn’t see.

 

“Nesta came to see me, because I hadn’t left my room in - in three days, and… I told her. I cried again, and I told her. That you are my mate, and that I _didn’t_ **_know_** , and that I-”

 

He stops himself then, blinking at Azriel, who turns around with two plates; having cut his sandwich in two. It’s only because Cassian, _really,_ ** _really_** **_needs_** to tell Azriel _everything_ he meant to tell him, that he simply murmurs;

 

**_“I told her that I love you, Azriel”_ **

 

——————————————————

 

Azriel doesn’t say anything, blinks a couple of times, the same way Cassian blinks back at him. Then he places one of the plates on the table, and slides it over to the warrior. He cocks his head, silently ordering him to eat.

 

Cassian _wants_ to ask, to plead Azriel to **say** something - anything, at least - but, _something_ in the expression, something in Azriel’s **_eyes_ ** made him simply pick up the sandwich, and take a bite. _God, he was_ **_hungry_** _, because he’d barely eaten in_ **_five days_ ** _-_ **_the five days Azriel had been gone_**. So Cassian ate, bite after bite, until -

 

Cassian’s eyes widened, he stopped chewing halfway through his food, looking up at Azriel. Azriel, who was simply looking at him while he ate - _Azriel, his_ _mate_ \- **_Azriel, who’d_** ** _made_** ** _the food Cassian was eating._** ** _Azriel had given him food._**

 

——————————————————

 

The realisation that dawned upon him had him choke on the piece of bread still in his mouth. Cassian coughed violently, tears springing in his eyes as he tried to breathe through the heaving. He felt Azriel’s hand on his back then, warm, despite the lingering wounds on it - slapping him to get him to spit out the food.

 

 _“Can’t you even_ **_eat_ ** _normally?!”_

 

Azriel set to scold him for being reckless as Cassian recovered, taking deep, raspy breaths. Even while offering his mate water he went on and on about him being _painfully stupid_ and _having to be bloody_ **_careful_**. Yet Cassian started _laughing_ then, and Azriel deemed him **mad** , because he just _nearly died, by the Cauldron_. Then there’s tears in the fool’s eyes as well, and Azriel _stops_ , and _looks_ at him, but all Cassian says is;

 

**_“You accepted the mating bond.”_ **

 

——————————————————

 

Azriel is full out _blushing_ , his cheeks are **_burning_** , and Cassian is _standing up_. His mate is leaning in, _leaning in_ \- _as if to_ … Then he stops, looks Azriel dead serious in the eyes, laughter and tears both gone - Azriel’s _breath_ stops. “Does this mean you’re going to slap me every time I kiss you?”

 

Azriel thinks he could _kill_ him now, **_if Cassian didn’t kiss him_ ** **_right, by the Mother, now_ **.

 

So Azriel nods ‘yes’, then pulls, nearly _yanks_ Cassian down by his collar, and **_kisses_ ** him. They both _whine_ the moment their lips press together, and Azriel **needs** Cass _closer_   _closer_ , until his hands are tangled in his long hair. They pull away slightly breathless, gazing into eachother’s eyes, until Cassian whispers:

 

_“You accepted the mating bond”_

 

Azriel _can’t believe_ that Cassian just _said that_ **_again_** , when they were having a _moment_. He contemplates striking him across his other cheek. Instead, he groans, rolls his eyes, pushes his fool back into the chair.

 

“Just _eat_ , you weirdo”

 

Cassian eats, with a giant grin on his face, and a sparkle in his eyes; spilling food over his hands and the table. Azriel wants to be disgusted by it, but he just _can’t_ ** _wait_** to kiss that stupid grin again, and add more, _more of those_ ** _sparkles_** to Cass’ eyes.

 

——————————————————

 

Once Cassian is finally done eating, Azriel starts cleaning the dishes they had used. His back was once again turned towards Cassian, hiding his furious blush from his mate, while he wondered how this all could be _actually_ _real_. The thought of Cassian perhaps choosing Nesta instead of him was still _so_ fresh. The sight of them together on the couch had **_hurt_** so much, it overruled any and all of the pain of his wounds.

 

Yet here they were, Cassian had _chosen_ him. He’d apologised for his rash actions, with words that meant _so much more_ than just that, _and_ they had _shared_ **_food_** as the tradition states. The moment he finished washing the dishes, he reached for the towel to dry his hands, Azriel felt Cassian’s disbelief through the bond. He slowly turned around to look at Cassian, to see the warrior standing just a few steps away, arms out - as if he was _afraid_ to reach out to him, his eyes full of wonder; deeply lost in his own thoughts. Azriel cocks his head to the side once again, indulging Cassian to continue what he was about to do. The warrior stays rooted to his spot, simply staring, and the Shadow Singer wonders if a mental nudge would help him decide what to do.

 

Azriel tries to reach Cassian through their bond. He searches for the path between them, the line that links their minds together, the strong connection that only existed between mates, **his** **_mate_**. When he finds the bridge, everything looks dark and gloomy at first, but as he keeps going he can feel the _love_ and **_devotion_ ** leading him towards the other side.

 

Azriel reaches Cassian’s mental shield only a few moments after that; he looks up with a smile at the ever familiar dark stones of the Illyrian Mountains. This is where they had _met_ , where they grew up and had trained to become the warriors - the men they were today. The wall was made out of uneven rocks, like it had been cut from the mountain itself, every inch that jutted out was covered in a soft layer of snowflakes; steel spikes and red stones covered the rest of Cass’ shield.

 

Azriel takes the last few steps and _softly_ , **_tenderly_ ** places a hand on one of the red orbs that looked an awful lot like the Siphons the commander wears on his battle gear.

 

 _‘I_ **_know_ ** _you can hear me. I can_ **_almost_ ** _hear you, but mostly - I feel your emotions, I feel_ **_you_** _.’_ Azriel then gently rests his forehead against the wall as well, his breath ghosting over the edges of the cold stone, melting some of the snow. _‘-and I just want to say, that - you don't have to be so cautious with me all the time.’_ The Shadow Singer then released everything he had bottled up inside of him, spiriting it towards Cassian’s mind.

 

He lets his doubts, loss, caution - his anxiety, nervousness, and fears flow into his mate. Only when he has rendered himself _completely_ ** _naked_** , and loose from all the uncertainties from his past; does he spill out all the positivity. Azriel wills his adoration, his amazement for the warrior to _caress_ and _surround_ \- _every_ inch of their shared mental space. Then he gathers the _ultimate_ ** _delight_** that grows somewhere deep inside him, and now flows steadily through his veins. Utter _bliss_ at the fact that Azriel and Cassian, they had this _bond,_ and it was **_real_** **.** Slowly but surely, Azriel lets Cassian feel all his _euphoric_ feelings; _appreciation, gratitude, warmth, excitement_ \- and then; most of all, **_love_**.

 

 _“Az-”_ A shudder rippled along the Shadow Singers’ spine at the whimpered nickname, then it travelled through his entire body when he felt two strong arms circle around his waist, and he could _feel_ the ghosting of Cassian's warm lips against his neck. The contact was warming his body with every heartbeat, flushing his cheeks bright red once again as he came fully back to himself. Azriel thought he would _outright_ **_melt_ ** from Cass’ embrace. He lifted his arms to place them around his mates neck, closed the remaining space between them and softly placed his lips against the shell of Cassian's ear.

 

“ **Dón't -** **hold**  - **b** **ack.”**

 

One moment they were only hugging - standing in each other’s embrace - _feeling_. Simply sharing their inner emotions and Azriel showing Cassian into his emotions, being clear with his mate.

 

The next Azriel’s wings were pinched between the wall and his back. Only one of Cassian’s arms still around his waist, while the other one’s hand was in his hair; threading through the strands, and _softly scraping his scalp with his nails_ , and **_pulling lightly on his hair_ ** . The warmth of Cassian's lips bled onto his own as they shared another kiss, more _fierce_ and **_passionate_ ** than the one Azriel had given his mate to taunt him.

 

A low groan slips past Cassian's lips, - and Azriel’s eyes roll _so far back into his head at the_ **_sound_ ** _of it_ \- when he lifts one leg, locking their hips together, closing the space between them once more. The _feel_ , and **_smell_ ** , and **_taste_ ** of Cass made Azriel’s head spin. The mating bond making everything feel _more, more vivid - closer,_ **_more sensitive_ **.

 

As both the warrior’s hands reach down to knead Azriel’s rear, bending his body slightly away from the wall; a low moan escapes him. Cassian sighs into his mouth as he spreads his wings; giving them some freedom. He quickly notices - _and he_ **_feels_ ** \- that the new position makes their groins rub together, and with every movement a silent gasp leaves Az’s lungs. Cassian seizes the opportunity to nibble on his lower lip, bruising it with every suck and quite **_literally_ ** rubbing the delicious gasps and wavering breaths from his mates body.

 

Azriel threads his right hand through the long dark strands of Cassian’s hair, softly, _urgently_ pulling to gain a bit more control over their hot makeout session. Sadly, his strength was still low after suffering injuries, and Cassian was losing himself _into_ and **_onto_ ** him. Another shudder travelled up Azriel’s spine as he feels strong hands almost _lift him_ **_up_ ** from the back of his thighs, only to push them **harder** against each other.

 

——————————————————

 

As he tries to keep his mind _working_ , and not completely losing himself in the sensation that was their _souls -_ **_and bodies_ ** _-_ being _linked_ together; the Shadow Singer sluggishly thinks of a way to make his warrior shudder for him. He sneaks both his hands away from the silky hair they had been laced in, and runs them slowly along the side of Cassian’s neck; feeling his mate’s heart _hammering_ under his pulse.

 

Azriel moves his scarred hands over the broad chest, slowly tracing every muscle along on the invisible path he had planned out to follow on Cassian’s body. The moment Azriel's fingers brush against that _incredibly sexy_ v-line of his mate, he can feel every one of those muscles contract, and pull tight. He uses his thumbs to hitch Cassian’s shirt up just so he could feel the muscles ripple underneath the palms of his hands _again_ ; then he slowly caressed the canvas that was his back.

 

First there’s a silence. As if even their breathing awaits it, _halts_ for the reaction. Then Azriel grins into their paused kiss, as a huge shockwave trembles through Cassian’s body.

 

 _“D- Did you just-”_ **Another** flow of tremors wrecks through Cassian, a low vibration felt at their joined chests when he _growls_ at his mate; **_lowly_** , from somewhere **_deep_** inside his throat. Azriel was drawing _figures_ , **_lines_** and **_patterns_** \- with his nails on the rim of Cassian’s wings; his smile only getting bigger when they lock eyes and all he _sees_ is the utmost _want_ and **_desperation_** in the almost black irises of the warrior. Seizing the opportunity, Azriel pushed against the warriors’ body, slowly willing him to take one step, two steps - and another one back; still stroking his wings and placing barely there butterfly kisses along his collarbone. Cassian gasped loudly once the Shadow Singer softly bites the tender skin of his neck and gave him one final push backwards.

 

——————————————————

 

Cassian hears a loud thud before he registers that it was his own back hitting the wooden dinner table. Everything seemed so _loud_ in his ears, their breathing was harsh and heavy, the kitchen felt warm, and the sounds from outside had _never_ been this clear before.

 

Yet all he could focus on was that, this time - **_he_** \- was _pinned_ ** _down_** , upper body and half his lower body pressed to the table while Azriel _straddled_ him. Chest to chest, breathing evenly synchronised as they both just seemed to stop their advances to stare heatedly into each other's eyes. In this position Cassian could _feel_ Az’s **_length_** against his own. He _wanted_ \- No, **_needed_** \- more, more of this _burning,_ this _raw_ , **_intense_** spark that blazed between them.

 

Cassian _bucked_ his hips to grind against the rock hard member of his mate, and the sound Azriel made at that lighted a primal part of him on a _quest_ to have him do that **_again_ ** . The look Azriel shot him made his cock _twitch_ with anticipation. The Shadow Singers’ _smile_ , however, was near **_feral_ ** when he leaned in closer, and softly _growled_ into his ear. _“The tables have turned,_ **_Cass_ ** _.”_ Cassian released a high-pitched a whine, one he will _forever_ deny, when Azriel thrusted against his aching member, so _hard_ , but _too_ **_terribly_ ** **_slow_ ** . _“I am the one setting the pace now,_ **_mate_ ** _.”_

 

The very moment Azriel leans in to once again capture Cassian's lips with his own; the kitchen door swings open. A deafening smash echoed through the room when the wooden door slams harshly into the wall next to it.

 

Both males whip their head towards the door opening, pulled out of their daze by the sound; only to see their High Lord, Lady, Nesta, Elain _and_ Morrigan laying on the ground, groaning from the impact of landing on the tiled floor, and the weight of the others atop of them. The Illyrian warriors drag their eyes over the heap of friends, to Amren who stands behind them with a bemused look on her face; one arm outstretched, and a furiously blushing Lucien next to her.

 

 _“What were yo-”_ Azriel is the first to speak, but gets interrupted by his High Lady, who lays on the very bottom of the pile of bodies and says; “Don’t mind us. Amren is just a spoil sport.” She groaned from the weight of half the Inner Circle as she continues. “So _mean_ to push your High Lord, Lady, Third in command, the Emissary _and_ Lucien’s mate.”

 

Amren snorts and folds her arms over her chest. “They were spying on your…” She makes a hovering movement with her hand, gesturing towards the couple on the table. “ **_Bonding progress_ **.”

 

——————————————————

 

Azriel let his head fall to the crook of Cassian’s neck, to _hide_ his face there as he groans. Cassian wrapped a protective arm around his mate to shield him and turned his body so that Az was out of the sight of preening eyes. He waves his other hand to the door and growls at them to _go_ and **leave** them **_alone_ ** . Then he softly kisses his mate’s temple, as he locked eyes with Rhysand and silently pleaded with his High Lord to take himself and his following _out_ of the kitchen. Thankfully, Rhys understands him  and winnows everyone out of the house without another word. Safe for speaking to Cassian from mind to mind; to let him know the house would be theirs for the night.

 

A soft sigh left Cassian’s lips before he placed a trail of kisses from Azriel’s temple to his cheek, to the side of his mouth, where a smile slowly bloomed into a reluctant grin. “Azriel?” He asked, waiting for his Shadow Singer to look him in the eyes. “It’s safe now, the coast is clear.” Cassian says softly, cradling his mate against his chest.

 

_“Do you want to go upstairs?”_

_“Yes, please.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me for the arrows.  
> (My co-writer might already be planning on doing that)
> 
> Also, the kitchen scene was supposed to be like a decently short part, but @xxxxWitlee got carried away.  
> I'm not even mad.
> 
> Tasha: I did no such thing. This was all planned, you were just not prepared.


	3. Agitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting your desire... is easier said than done.
> 
>  
> 
> *Let's Talk About Sex Baby plays in the background*  
> >eyes Cazriel<

Azriel feels the contented sigh leave Cassian's body; along with the kisses plastered against his temple, on his hairline, as they are  _ finally _ left alone by their High Lord. He tries to untangle himself from the bundle they had become; the cold creeping between their bodies. He misses the heat from his mate the moment goosebumps erupt on the bare skin of his abdomen, where his shirt was still hitched up.

 

Cassian is reluctant with releasing him, and Azriel wonders if winnowing them to one of their bedrooms was doable in his state. The fatigue he feels, but had bluntly ignored until now, is dragging him back down; once again cuddling closer into the comfortable warmth of the sturdy body beneath him. Winnowing was _not_ an option. He exhales slowly, before he places a tender kiss upon the - _full and_ ** _surprisingly_** _soft_ \- lips of Cassian. It was more the _brush_ of lips against lips, gently stroking and mapping out the _dips_ , and **_curves_** , and **_crevices_** ; breathing the same air while both their hands start roaming again. As if they just _can’t_ **help** it.

 

Shirts were hiked up  _ higher _ ,  _ skin  _ was met with  _ skin _ \- and they both  _ groaned _ at the contact. Their hands tracing the hard muscles threaded under the other’s skin, and  _ kneading _ ,  **_stroking_ ** ; gently  _ marking  _ their  **_territory_ ** with blunt nails. Drawing gasps and even more groans from each other, but still, they lazily stayed in the same position. Mate-fever gone, and simply  **_feeling_ ** everything that was their  _ devotion, understanding  _ and  _ adoration _ for each other _. _

 

It was the dull, growing pain in his lower back -  both from his current position, his injuries,  **_and_ ** the fact that he was  _ over five hundred years old _ \- that dragged Azriel away, albeit reluctantly. It earned him a soft,  _ unapproving _ growl from his mate while he sat up, out of the reach of Cassian’s warm and ever gentle hands. “Let's go upstairs, love. The exhaustion is sinking in, and I  _ really _ need to lay down.” It had been a long day for the both of them, even though Azriel’s mission seemed days ago; it had only been just that morning.

 

He felt Cassian place his hands on his hips, steadying himself to sit up, making sure not to drop Azriel from his lap before pulling them chest to chest again. The Shadow Singer is about to ask Cass to release him, when he feels himself starting to  _ slide  _ **_backwards_ ** ,  **_down_ ** the warrior’s thighs.

 

In a reflex to keep himself from falling Azriel circles his arms around the broad shoulders of Cassian, who had, in his place, quickly placed his hands underneath his mate’s backside.  _ Hoisting  _ him up into a tight hold, locking Azriel’s legs around his hips in the process. He wore a look of  _ shock _ on his face as he stared at Cassian from a higher point of view, his forearms now resting slackly on the taut muscles. 

 

Then he was being carried out of the kitchen. Azriel wanted to put up a slight struggle,  _ demand  _ the male to put him down and let him walk. It was only because he could  _ literally  _ **_feel_ ** the grin of his mate on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, that he kept his mouth shut. Through the bond; a giddy kind of joy and  _ fondness  _ surged through him, making him sigh happily and relax into Cassian’s embrace while he got carried up to his bedroom.

 

What Azriel did not foresee, however - _despite it being a super sweet gesture that his warrior wanted to carry him towards his room_ \-  was, that with every step their bodies slowly _moved_ against each other. The smiling lips against his skin instantaneously starting to place soft pecks along his collarbone, before those turned into small nips and bites along his neck. With every sensitive spot _kissed_ , **_bitten_** , and **_licked_** ; Cassian’s hands started to tighten the hold on his cheeks, ever so gently - _but_ ** _deliberately_** \- pushing their hardening members against each other.

 

The stairs were  _ hell  _ to climb; the kind of hell he would gladly welcome  _ anytime _ , but it was a  **challenge** for Azriel to not scream at his mate to  **_hurry up_ ** . So instead of turning  _ frustratedly  _ **_impatient_ ** ; he  _ pushed _ his  **need** into Cass’ mind, while small,  _ tremulous  _ whines and sobs wrecked from his body. Azriel sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth as they had  _ finally _ ,  **_finally_ ** reached the last step to the second floor. 

 

Cassian abruptly pulled his shaking body closer against himself. A low, _pleading_ moan echoing through the empty house when the warrior tactfully, _skillfully_ bit into the sensitive skin just below Azriel’s ear. At the exact moment he could feel several digits _slide_ , **_rub_** , **_caress_** the apex of his thighs and rear; both Cassian’s little fingers _slowly_ dragging a line along the underside of his already pulled tight balls. Then travelled along the cleft of his ass in a circular motion, winding Azriel into a tight knot of aching **want**.

 

A broken sound left Azriel. It sounded a lot like he was trying to say _‘why?’_ \- as if to ask Cassian _why_ he was teasing him like this, but his throat, his **_voice_** did not work. For Azriel was a _starving_ man - he was _longing_ and **_yearning_** for more, _so_ much _more_ friction. 

 

There were _too_ many layers between them. They locked eyes before leaning in for another heated kiss. He _wanted_ Cassian - _no_... The carnal hunger for _his_ **mate** made him **_crave_** to be filled, to experience being _completely_ ** _full_** , feeling his warriors heartbeat buried _deep_ inside him, every thrust so new, _so_ **sensitive** ; it would rip him apart and mend him right back together with their _shared_ ** _heated_** ** _love_**. The look Cassian wore on his face the moment he looked back at him and let out a husky growl, told the Shadow singer that all of his needs had reached his _mate_ \- his **_love_**.

 

He released his shadows on both of them and winnowed; he had waited long enough.

 

——————————————————

 

One moment Cassian is rock hard, making his Shadow Singer sing and mewl the most beautiful sounds, standing in the hallway at the top of the stairs. The next he finds himself, once again, on his back; with his mate on top of him, grinding his shaft against Cassian’s. Azriel is near  _ attacking _ his exposed neck with teeth and tongue, while fumbling to unlace his pants. Cassian notices then that both their shirts are gone, in tatters and shreds, scattered around them. A shudder sneaks along his spine. 

 

Azriel’s shadows have ripped his linen shirt from his body, and Cassian’s traitorous mind plays swiftly through  _ all  _ the  **possibilities** those talons and shadows open up for him; how they could be used in other ways.  _ How they could be used on him _ . The thought made his cock twitch, before hardening even more; almost  _ painful _ .

 

_ “A- Az-” _ his voice  _ croaks  _ and  **_breaks_ ** when the cold air of the room hits his,  _ oh so sensitive _ warm member. He watches his pants fall from the edge of Azriel’s bed, only to choke on a silent cry, bending his back from the mattress to  _ look _ when scarred hands wrapped around his genitals. “Az, stop... We can’t-” He groans out loudly with every stroke between his words. 

 

The hand on his member stops, falls death in it’s  _ delicious  _ track. A sudden uncertainty, -  **_horror_ ** \- and dread rips through their bond, so fiercely it snaps Cassian out of his sexual reverie. He quickly seeks out his mates’ eyes, when Azriel’s hands removed themselves from his body  _ so fast _ ; so many emotions crossed Azriel’s eyes, it dizzied him. It all flows along the bond silently, as a rock drops heavily in Cassian’s stomach.  _ Shame, concern, silent apologies,  _ **_disgust_ ** _ for not asking first, embarrassment...  _ \- This was  _ not  _ what he wanted to make his mate feel.  _ Not at  _ **_all_ ** .

 

——————————————————

 

With caution he reached out towards Azriel, getting on his knees to crawl closer, but the male's body ever so lightly flinched away from his outstretched hands. Cassian slumped into himself, mentally slapping himself for using the wrong way to -  _ mental -  _ **_mentally!_ **

 

He searched for their connection deep inside of his chest; crossing the bridge as fast as he could once he found it. Following the terror, and self-hate that spread vastly through his mate, the  **horrible** feelings  _ he  _ had caused to surface. At the end of the bond, he reached a mental shield that  _ screamed  _ Azriel. It was horrific but  _ so _ beautiful. 

 

Cassian was standing in front of a wall of jutted dark stone, same colour as the death of the night, dusted with snow. The wall was uneven, sticking through the rocks were bent and broken Illyrian steel bars. He looked around to search for a opening,  _ anything  _ \-  __ so he could get to Azriel. When he looked up at the edge of the stones; he saw dark shadows. They rolled and creeped over the wall and low near the ground. Tracking the shadows back where they came from; Cassian found a thicker stream of dark mist erupt from the wall. 

As he walked closer, he was greeted with a huge crack in Azriel’s mental shield. Yet he could  _ not  _ pass through; for it was the only place where the Illyrian bars were still intact, effectively separating Cassian from his mate. Gazing through the bars, he saw Azriel sitting in the exact same position as in reality, on the bed. Tucked into himself, hands fisted in his hair, his knees up against his chest and wings fold tightly around him; like a shield.

 

Cassian silently asks his mate to look up,  _ screams  _ \- to get a reaction out of him. He  **_pleads_ ** for Azriel to listen to him; not to his inner voice that said he’d made a mistake, that told him that this was all a lie; nothing more than a scheme to break him further. For that isn’t true, he shouldn’t believe it, for he is - “ **_WRONG!_ ** You are wrong! I  **want** _ you _ , Azriel.” In reflex Cassian’s wings flare a bit. “All those things you wanted,  **_needed_ ** me to do to you -  _ the things I want  _ **_you_ ** _ to do to me...”  _ The warrior rasped. Not able to find the right words to continue;  he lets the mental images pass through the bars, lets all his emotions roam free, reaching the end of their destination. Slowly, ever so slowly; the Azriel’s wings unfold themselves, hands leaving his hair in disarray, and Cassian sees Azriel look up. Look  **_at_ ** him, through the dark mist that were his shadows.

 

They snap back to their bodies the moment Cassian’s hand laced their fingers together. He saw the gleam of unshed tears in his mate’s dark hazel eyes and instinctively pulled the smaller male against his chest, head tucked soundly underneath his chin. Holding each other in a tight embrace while carefully lowering their bodies onto the soft covers. They stayed like that until they relaxed; until both their heartbeats had eased down from the sudden shock that had wrecked them.

 

“I- I did not mean for that to happen. It’s just that it felt so  _ overwhelmingly  _ good -  **_so right_ ** … But I didn’t want to be selfish.” Cassian blurted out after a while. He waited for a reply, but no sound, no words came from Azriel. He was almost sure the older male had fallen asleep, when a tidal wave of confusion and utter  _ frustration _ hit him in all his senses. 

 

The warrior dared moving a few inches back to get a look at his mate, and instantly felt fear creep into his veins. “W- Well Az, look... We could hardly have - you know, _sex_ ; when you are still healing. We could reopen your wounds! O-Or you’ll have a bad first experience-” A high pitched yelp left his mouth as Azriel, ever so swiftly, flipped him over and pushed him on his back. 

 

Cassian tried to move his arms, to hold them up in surrender, but they were quickly pinned above his head. He ran his wide eyes over the spot where Azriel’s hand held his hands into place, then running them over his own naked chest; wings flaring tensely, displayed wide and intimidating around their bodies. Then locked his gaze to the spot where his mate’s frame - his very **_essence_** was positioned between Cassian’s _very_ ** _naked_** , thighs. 

 

The whine that followed broke somewhere halfway within his throat; the image of them in  _ this  _ position, making Cassian’s body heat up again - slowly filling his member with blood once more. ‘ _ This is  _ **_not_ ** _ the time, I need to stop him, tell to -’ _

 

**_‘You need to - shut - úp.’_ **

Cassian feels the rumble of Azriel deep within his mindspace, he feels every fiber of his mate, every touch and thought -  _ too much _ \- for him to concentrate and convince his love that he’d rather wait their first time out. The deep growl, the tremble that follows the sound; felt chest through chest, had Cassian’s insides turn inwards and his heart skip a beat. 

 

“You need to stop being so overprotective,  **Cass** .” Azriel whispered into his ear, as one scarred hand snaked his way over his abs, a digit dipping in each crease, circling his bellybutton; making his muscles flex - his breathing  _ waver _ \- as that hand goes on its way  _ down _ ,  **_down_ ** . Down to the inside of Cassian’s thigh, squeezing the firm, powerful muscles, hardening the burning flesh between their bodies.

 

“ _ Don’t _ make me repeat myself. I want us to become one,  _ tonight  _ \-  _ Please _ , Cassian.  **_Please._ ** ” The commander feels the tremors pulse through his mate; the emotions that were shared. So  _ open _ , so  **_honest_ ** , and - and he wanted to comply, he  _ really _ ,  **_really_ ** did; but they shouldn't. Not when Azriel was still bandaged up, bruised on multiple places; the wounds on his wings had not even healed fully, and he sprouted some painfully red looking scars. 

 

“I _knów_ , Az. Don’t think I don’t want the same. I want to _feel_ you, _kiss_ you - **_mark_** you with my own body - let you **_claim_** me, so hard, and _thoroughly_ that I’ll forget my own name and will only remember to scream yours.” Cassian said breathily to his mate, “- But do you understand that I also worry for you? You may be frustrated, - you may want to fuck me so hard that I won't be able to use my voice for days... But I can feel everything else too, Az. I can feel your pain, physical _and_ mental. You hide it well, but I am your **mate** , and we are connected; I am able to tell the things you try not to show. Cauldron, Azriel - We could actually **_worsen_** the state your wounds if we do engage in, _heavy activity.”_

 

 

Azriel opens his mouth to protest, but closes it and presses his lips into a thin line, shoulders slumping and looking away from his mate. Cassian's hands - released the moment Azriel sat up, have more space to move freely now. He rubs his wrists and softly smiled at his lover. ‘ _ How about you get undressed fully, lose that  _ **_offending_ ** _ piece of clothing called trousers, and join me underneath the covers; so we can hold each other,  _ **_very_ ** _ close.’  _ Cassian lets the thought pass through towards his mate and waits patiently for his reply.

 

Az cocks his head and softly snorts. _ ‘This offensive piece of clothing will only come off, if you help me finish. Otherwise we might go insane after tonight. The amount of times we riled each other up-’  _ Cassian interrupts him before he can even finish his thought.

 

_ ‘It’s a deal. Now get over here, my very naked body is getting very cold. Would you please warm me up?’ _

 

The warrior sees a small smile tug on the corner of the Shadow Singer’s mouth, as he himself lay down on the mattress again. Cassian flared and then relaxed his wings lazily, watching his mate undress. Azriel’s hands run teasingly over his stomach, thumbs catching onto the hem of his pants, while he pulls them down to reveal a bit more of his hips and happy-trail. He then starts unlacing his trousers,  _ so  _ slowly it made Cassian almost regret his choice,  **_again_ ** , for opting to delay their coupling to a later time. Inch by Inch, the tight pants get pushed down, tortuously slow, showing more skin until the piece of fabric was past Azriel’s upper thighs and bundling at his knees.

 

Cassian helplessly  _ stared _ at the prominent uncovered flesh and those powerful thighs. His throat had turned to parchment, as he tried to swallow the non existent spit while Azriel took himself in hand and lazily stroked himself a few times. The warrior only loosened his breath when his eyes traveled to the shadow singers face, to see the light blush, high on his prominent cheekbones. The night lights from Velaris streamed through the high bedroom window, into the room and caught Azriel in all the right places. 

His Shadow Singer’s body language was confident, yet hesitant. _Az- he is_ ** _actually_** _shy, even after pushing me into the mattress just now._ Cassian thought. This whole image of Azriel, it was so _familiar,_ **yet**... They have been friends for so long and here they are; fidgeting, blushing, trying to seduce and tempt one-another, getting used to the whole **_mate_** _-thing._ Everything is different between them, even if those things have been there all along; the looks they share, their understanding of each other, the touches were so _brash_ at first - and now it was _almost_ the same but also new, so _raw, so_ **_enchanting_** _._

 

An affectionate smile formed itself on Cassian's lips while he beckoned Azriel to come closer, inviting him within open arms; to come over and lay down next to him. The Shadow Singer crawls his way over the bed and into his arms, kicking his trousers off and onto the floor when they had tangled around his ankles. 

 

Azriel draped the covers over both their legs and lay himself down; facing Cassian. The window and the glow of the night illuminating half his face, bringing the green out into his hazel eyes. His blush is still there when Cassian places his hand on Azriel’s hip, languidly stroking the soft skin under his thumb, running it over his hipbone and abdomen. Cassian could only stare lovingly at his mate, they both wanted to reach out and do  _ so  _ much  **_more_ ** than just hug and hold. The warrior released a soft breath, bent forwards to kiss Azriel’s forehead before resting his against it, and closed his eyes for a moment.  _ Yes,  _ they both wanted more, but after the emotional turmoil they just went through and the effect it had on Az... Maybe they should no-

 

A soft growl pulled him out of his thoughts and made him return his eyes to his mate; meeting a silent glare and a slight pout of Azriel.  _ ‘You should not be thinking, you promised.’ _ Before Cassian could say anything in any form of apology, he felt Azriel’s warmth suddenly really close to him, their groins touching  _ just  _ barely. 

 

The moment they made contact, both of them  _ groaned _ , arms around one another. Azriel was warm against Cassian, but his lower body was like a wildfire; and him being so close was already making the warrior heat up. He could feel himself fill out against the already hard member of his mate. Cassian pulled Azriel  _ closer _ , holding him in a tight embrace and bucked his hips towards the warmth almost involuntarily. His face disappeared in the crook of the Spymaster’s neck as the motion was quickly returned. They stayed like that for a long time, in a tight embrace, gently rubbing their cocks together; until Cassian had softly  _ bitten  _ into Azriel’s shoulder. 

 

The moment his teeth had put pressure on that spot, a  _ low,  _ **_deep_ ** groan leaves Azriel’s lips, the male's hips stuttering. Their position changed so that their members were no longer pressed against the other. The warrior could feel his mate rubbing against his abs now. Before they could change positions again, Cassian tested his own situation by softly thrusting his hips forward; and he could feel his mate slide upwards against the muscles on his stomach.

 

They were both  _ panting _ ,  **_gasping_ ** when their hips reconnected. Cassian found himself held extremely tight, his mate’s hands in a strong grip on his back while Azriel started moving his hips against him.

 

In this position, Cassian’s dick was _twitching_ - between the warm, strong thighs of his mate; the head rubbing between Azriel’s ass cheeks, against his perineum, the already tensing balls and all the way back, again. _Again_ \- a _nd_ ** _again_**. The warrior choked on air when the motion sent several shocks of pure _pleasure_ down his spine, making the hair on the back of his neck rise with goosebumps, and his toes curl in delight. In reflex, his hands grabbed the taut muscled mass that was Azriel’s ass, pushed forward and pulled the Shadow Singer even closer with his next thrust. A broken gasp left the throat of his mate and Cass kissed right below Azriel’s jawline; drawing more sounds with every _thrust_ , with every _graze of teeth_ , every _lap of tongue_ to **_taste_**. The smell of their arousal _thick_ and **_heavy_**. Every touch, every taste - _everything_ that is **_his_** _mate_ - made Cassian’s head spin with desire ** _._**

 

Their thrusting turned  _ frantic  _ and  **_desperate_ ** fast; heavy breathing filled the humid room and the in volume increasing moans bounced off the walls. Azriel’s member was caught between their bodies, and with each motion Cassian could feel the hot slickness slide against him, the smell of it making him dizzy. It smelled musky and salty, but also fruity, like sweet mangos. It frustrated Cassian that Azriel did not even seem to have the slightest idea of the effect he had on him. The warrior wanted to drive his lover just as crazy as he was making him.

 

Cassian caught Azriel’s lips in a heated battle of  _ teeth  _ and  **_tongue_ ** , while he eased his thrusting into slow, deliberate strokes; each more  _ precise  _ and  _ calculated  _ than the other -  _ dragging _ ,  **_pushing_ ** and  **_rubbing_ ** all the sensitive spots. His change of pace earned him an irritated growl at first, but the  _ deliciously  _ slow stimulation had his mate  _ whimper  _ and nearly  **_sob_ ** for release. Cassian swallowed every noise, kissing his frustration away. He kneaded Azriel’s rear in _ just _ the right way, so that the angle made the head of his dick rub against his mate’s entrance, spreading his own precum over the twitching muscle. 

 

The sharp sting of nails catching onto the skin on Cassian’s back told him that Azriel was enjoying himself, softly _mewling_ ; endorsements against his lips, his jaw, his neck. It made him happy, to see Azriel like this. He could feel actual _butterflies_ flutter in his stomach as his mate so unguardedly enjoyed all the love and care Cassian was putting into pleasing him; he wasn't even truly sure they were all only _his_ feelings. It was the _shudders_ , the **_twitching_** in Azriel’s legs, the gasps and pleas coming faster, more urgently; that told him that his mate was close to release. 

 

Cassian did not trust his own voice to speak; instead opted to speak directly to his mate’s mind, softly caressing their bond.  _ ‘I wanted to ask, since... Y-you are close - if maybe I am allowed to touch your wing-’ _

 

_ ‘ _ **_Yes!_ ** _ Yes - Cauldron, yes! Just touch me, Cassian-’  _ The last part of Azriel’s words were groaned so  _ desperately  _ that Cassian immediately moved both his hands from the bundle of flesh and muscle. One to the center of Azriel’s back; rubbing  _ just  _ against base of his wings, dragging lines to the most sensitive parts of the membrane; while the other hand had circled itself around the throbbing heat between their bodies, using the slick from Azriel’s precum as lubricant to move his hand with firm strokes. Cassian kissed the space between his mate’s furrowed eyebrows, kissed both his eyelids, his nose, all while keeping up the stimulation from his hands; his own hips still slowly moving between Azriel’s thighs. 

 

Cassian ran his tongue over his mate’s bottom lip as it was being bit down on harshly and assaulted by Azriel’s teeth, kissing it softly to free the red skin. He kissed his cheek, jawline - and he could feel it then. The  _ tensing _ , the gulping for  **_air_ ** ; and the throbbing, the  _ pulsing  _ against his palm. The warrior moved his mouth closer to Azriel’s ear, gracing the skin slightly, and whispered; “Let yourself go, Az. I’ve got you -  _ I  _ **_love_ ** _ you, I always have and always will.  _ **_Come for me, Azriel._ ** _ My  _ **_mate_ ** **_,_ ** _ my  _ **_love_ ** .”

 

A loud howl left Azriel’s trembling body, and Cassian pulled back enough to look, and memorise the blissful expression that spread over his mate’s face. Cheeks flushed, half lidded eyes with a far away glassy look, mouth slightly agape, with swollen and red lips that still released soft, broken sobs and whimpers with every after shock. Cassian had a hard time looking away from Azriel’s expression, but he was still rock hard and needed a release  _ \- fast  _ \- before his mate-fever got the better of him. 

 

Cassian looked at the mess between their bodies and a satisfied,  _ possessive  _ growl escaped him. Another whimper left his blissed out mate when the warrior slowly pulled his swollen member from between Azriel’s thighs. Cassian used his right hand, still wet and dripping with Az’s cum, to grab himself and pump to completion. It was Azriel’s hand on his sack, gently  _ kneading  _ and  **_caressing_ ** it; and those swollen lips -  _ kissing _ ,  _ biting  _ the skin on his collarbone that send Cassian into a yowling mess, shooting his load over his hands, even hitting his mate's abdomen several times.

 

Both of them stayed in that position; lazily stroking each other’s body, running fingertips over arms, tracing tattoos and placing soft kisses here and there. Simply enjoying the warmth and the  _ bond _ ; full of  **love** between them. Cassian was the first to move away from the embrace and afterglow - albeit reluctantly; to get a washing cloth. He cleaned them both with a gentle hand,before removing most of their mess from the bed sheets. 

 

Once he lay back down in bed, he pulled Azriel close, covered them both with a thin blanket and kissed his mate deep and lazily. Cassian’s hands in Az’s hair, running his nails over his scalp before stopping the stimulation and simply kissing Azriel’s forehead lovingly. 

 

“Goodnight, Az.” Cassian said softly, smiling at Azriel, as he ran a hand through his hair, scooting closer, tucking his head underneath the warrior’s chin; and murmured a well spent: “Goodnight, Cassian.  _ Love you too.” _

 

——————————————————

 

It was the morning light that hit him right in the face; the vibrant colours of red behind his eyelids that woke Cassian up - he hadn't slept this well in  _ months _ . He looked out the window to somewhat see what time it was, squinted against the sun and grumbled. Far past dawn if the sun was already this bright and annoying. 

 

He tried to move his wings, but with every movement he made a groan of protest was released from beside him. Cassian turned his head to the left and stilled in every way possible, not even blinking. The consistent warmth, the trickle of warm breath against his chest -  was from Azriel; whose arm was thrown over his abdomen, his  _ Azriel _ .  _ His  _ **_mate_ ** . 

 

Cassian needed to process for a second that this was _real_ \- **not** a dream. They’d had the _best_ foreplay, **_ever_** \- and that had been ** _yesterday_**. He stayed and they’d slept together and - Azriel had _confessed_. The warrior released a shuddering breath, one he didn't know he’d been holding; his mate had said ‘ ** _love you too_**.’ The stress Cassian had felt the past days, disappeared from his body altogether, and he was filled with utter _contentment_ , and **_relief_**. 

 

_ ‘Azriel has dealt with my incompetent shitty behavior and  _ **_still_ ** _ sticked to me. He saw me chase another person, and  _ **_still_ ** _ gave me a second chance. Azriel - Az, completed the tradition with me, choose  _ **_me_ ** _ , even returned my feelings... And he -’ _

 

_ ‘- And he would have liked to continue to snuggle and sleep against his big idiot. But said idiot forgot to put his mental shield up and Azriel is now very much awake, sadly.’ _

 

Even though Azriel sounded annoyed, the look he gave Cassian was anything but. His body was completely  _ relaxed _ ,  **_comfortable_ ** \- and he had this soft  _ gleam  _ of fondness in his eyes. Without thinking about his words, Cassian blurted; “You hold the expression of a virgin who just experienced sex for the very first time. Bright eyes, soft smile, you have this amazing  **_afterglow_ ** going on - and  _ now _ you are flushed bright red - and I should  _ probably  _ **stop** talking right n- Az  **_wait_ ** !” 

 

Before Azriel could get up and away from him, Cassian threw both his arms and one leg over his mate’s body; making it as hard as possible for him to get out of the tentacle hug he had him ensnared in. They rolled around playfully, ‘ _ fighting _ ’ for dominance, but they both knew that if one of them had enough, one winnow and they would be free. The moment Cassian rolled them into a position where he was holding himself up on his forearms to hover above Azriel, he leaned in to kiss his mate tenderly. He used his right wing to cast a shadow and shield them from the bright sunlight streaming in.

 

“You know Az - even when I say or do things that might hurt your pride, or say things that sound _really_ cheesy - and make you blush so _beautifully_ red... I only do that because I actually mean it, and because I **_love_** the fact that I am the only one who gets to see this side of you.” Cassian says almost uncharacteristically serious, while he looks at Azriel laying so _at home_ underneath his body. 

 

The back of Azriel’s hand was covering half his face to try and fail miserably to hide behind it - his heartbeat beating faster than normal, hair in disarray, a beautiful blush on his cheekbones. ’ _ Cássian - you’re staring... why?’ _

‘ _ Because I adore everything about you. Absolutely  _ **_everything_ ** _ , my love.’  _ A grin spread across Cassian’s face when Azriel turned an even darker shade of red. ‘- _ Shut up, let's go downstairs for some food. I am famished, we didn't really eat last night - S-stop grinning like a fool, Cassian.’ _

 

——————————————————

 

Cassian’s hand finds his when they pause on top of the stairs, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Azriel  _ isn’t _ ready - not ready to, let  **_go_ ** of this, not now. Not  _ already _ . It’s dramatic, he knows; he wonders faintly if maybe being mated to his fool has rubbed off his drama on him. So when Cass goes to walk down the stairs, Azriel halts him, pulling him back by their linked hands. “One more,” he says, half mumbling the words against his mate’s lips when he kisses him. 

 

They walk into the kitchen, fingers entwined between them. A blush burns high on Azriel’s cheekbones, not because of  **all** those pairs of eyes on their hands, but  _ more so _ because  **_everyone is gathered around the kitchen table_ ** .  _ The  _ _ very _ _ same kitchen table Azriel had  _ **_pinned_ ** _ Cassian down on, and- _

 

The entire Inner Circle stares dumbly at eachother for a while, the silence only broken when it’s Elain - **_Elain_** \- who says; _“U-Uhm… Has- Has anyone-”_ She coughs awkwardly, blush bright enough to overthrow Azriel’s when a frown edges over her soft features. _“I don’t mean to be- But… I - Has anyone c-cleaned the - Did anyone wiped the… Table?”_

 

——————————————————

 

Azriel and Cassian both take their respective places. Next to each other. It’s  _ always _ been like that, it’s not  **_new_ ** , but  **_still_ ** . Cassian thinks he’ll  _ launch _ himself onto the very next person who  **_dares_ ** to give him - to give  _ Azriel _ \- that  **look** . He  _ knows _ it’s just the fresh mating bond - the fact that he’d -  _ set off  _ \- being intimate,  **_completely intimate_ ** , with his mate; because of his  _ injuries _ . Still - it’s doing  **weird** things to him, a fire inside his veins that has him place a possessive hand on Azriel’s knee and stare down every one of his friends.

 

Feyre meets Azriel’s eyes the moment he lifts his head from his plate for the first time during breakfast. He’d  _ felt _ the eyes on them,  **_felt_ ** Cassian’s boiling  _ rage _ , felt a sweet sense of  _ pleasure _ , of  **_pride_ ** at the hand that had travelled from its position on his knee up,  _ up _ ,  **_up_ ** , to half of his  _ inner _ thigh. He’s close to losing it; pushing Cassian on the table  _ again _ , and continue where they’d left off last night - when his High Lady  **_wiggles her eyebrows at him_ ** . 

 

_ “So…” _ the Cursebreaker says, drawing out the syllable while munching on a piece of watermelon as she eyes them. “How was your  _ night _ ?” A dangerous,  _ feline _ smirk then - she’s taking off after the cunning High Lord - and she  _ winks _ . “Did you -  _ sleep _ well?” Cassian halts his chewing, the same moment Azriel’s hand stops midair with his cup of coffee hovering somewhere between the table and his mouth.

 

“If you really want to know -  _ Feyre _ ,” the commander says, swallowing his food. “We did not do anything, perverse minded  **High Lady** . I’ll have you know that Azriel is  _ injured  _ still - and that when we  **_take_ ** each other, I want it to completely  **_wreck_ ** us; so I’ll tend to my mate until he’s fully healed, before we’ll take that on.”

 

A  _ satisfied _ ,  **_pleased_ ** smile plays around Azriel’s lips. Pride swelling through the bond when the Shadow Singer adds simply, expression unwavering;  _ “- and then, you’ll be  _ **_wishing_ ** _ you hadn’t spied on us -  _ **_nor_ ** _ taunted us. You’ll be begging the Cauldron  _ **_and_ ** _ the Mother for your night’s rest.” _

 

——————————————————

 

Azriel pins Cassian against the wall of the hall the moment they walk out of the kitchen, lips on his a heartbeat later,  _ kissing _ ,  **_biting_ ** . His nails scrape over the pulsepoint in his mate’s neck, drawing a choked gasp from Cassian’s throat as he tilts his head and bares his neck  _ more _ ,  _ more _ . Then the Shadow Singer places his lips over his Adam’s apple and  _ sucks _ ; a  **moan** travels to spill from Cass’ lips - but voices from the living room freeze them to their spot. 

 

**_“Feyre, darling? What’s wrong?” Rhysand’s voice prompts._ **

**_The High Lady huffs a breath._ **

**_“My ships never sail. Elriel sank - and Cazriel won’t even leave the harbour because the ship is in repair, and not ready to sail yet”_ **

**_“Cazriel?” The confusion is evident in the Lord’s voice._ **

**_“Yes!” Feyre exclaims. “Cassian and Azriel’s shipname, duh.”_ **

**_“Their - Their shipname…?”_ **

**_“... Cassian and Azriel? Cass-Azriel…? Cazriel?” Annoyance laced the Lady’s voice._ **

**_Rhysand sighs deeply - I’m too old for this._ **

 

——————————————————

 

Feyre sounded about ready to stomp the understanding and knowledge into Rhysand’s brain - so Azriel and Cassian straightened their clothes, tried to appear as if they hadn’t just been humping eachother in the hallway; and walked into the living room. Talking animatedly about some mission they’d played out together years ago to announce their arrival. Rhysand looked all too happy to be saved from his mate’s fiery wrath, and quickly meddled into the conversation. Eventually even Feyre engaged, telling them a few of her hunting adventures. 

 

——————————————————

 

After having talked for about an hour, Cassian and Azriel had excused themselves in order of going upstairs to replace Azriel’s bandages. The Shadow Singer found himself pushed softly to sit on the edge of his -  _ their? _ \- bed; Cass pressing a kiss to his lips before silently unwrapping his wounds. 

 

“Who bandaged you?” The warrior asked after a while, not meeting Azriel’s eyes, but frowning at the sight of the wounds marring his skin. “Rhysand did. Why?” He asked, fighting a smile. Azriel had realised fairly quickly that Cassian often let his feelings, his  _ true emotions _ , flow through their bond without even noticing it. He felt  _ green  _ **_jealousy_ ** course through his mate now, along with a slight drop of guilt. 

 

Azriel’s hand splayed gently against the side of Cass’ neck, just on the sharp line of his jaw, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone. “Cassian?” His mate gave in, sighing as he sat down next to him on the bed, eyes still locked on the arrow wound on Azriel’s shoulder before he tore his gaze away and looked him in the eye. “I- I know it’s not -  _ fair _ … But I -  _ I wanted to be the one to take care of you _ . And, I  _ know _ I couldn’t have  _ healed _ you - it’s just… I feel  _ so  _ **_much_ ** . So much  _ protectiveness _ , and - and I want to take  _ care _ of you and  _ tend _ to you and be  **_there_ ** for you when you need me. Instead he,  _ Rhysand _ … I mean, I - I feel bad for feeling so  _ possessive _ . I’m sorry, but I - I’m sure it’ll wear off once… Once we -”

 

Cassian stopped himself, blushing deeply as he turned his head to look away from Azriel. A hand under his chin lifts his gaze back to his mate. “Cassian? Hey - Cass, it’s  _ okay _ . I understand it, I understand  **_you_ ** . If you would want to, can you replace my bandages each day until the wounds have healed for me?” The warrior nods, smiling again, leaning in to peck Azriel on the lips. “Oh,” The Shadow Singer frowning when they pull apart. “Rhysand wants to see me.” Cassian outright  _ whines _ at getting interrupted,  **_again_ ** .

 

Azriel chuckles deeply, but feels deeply annoyed with his High Lord himself. However, a lot  _ did _ go wrong, he realises, wincing slightly at the pain in his shoulder; so he does owe the Lord at least  _ some _ explanation. “I’m sorry, love -” Azriel whispers, kissing Cassian once,  _ twice _ ,  **_three_ ** times. “I’ll see you later?” He waits until Cassian nods, eyes still closed; then the Shadow Singer presses a kiss to his mate’s forehead before he winnows to the High Lord’s study.

 

——————————————————

 

Cassian sits like that for a while, on the edge of the bed, simply  _ feeling _ his mate get further away from him by the minute. Then he sighs, stands up, starts walking. He doesn’t really know where he’s going, but he finds himself sauntering into the art room that Feyre has claimed for herself ever since she became a part of the Inner Circle.

 

First he thinks it’s empty, but a frustrated sigh sounds from somewhere in the far corner. Cassian first hears several tin cans find their end in the trash bin, before his eyes find Feyre. The bin is full of ripped canvasses, torn paper, broken and old brushes, empty cans of paint. “Oh. Hey Cass.” The High Lady says, ripping a few drawings out of her sketchbook, and tossing the gathered pile into the bin as well. “Hey, Feyre -” he says, frowning at the wasted art. 

 

“Why are you throwing away your drawings?” Feyre simply continues tearing a few more papers into small pieces. The warrior immediately recognises the figure on the next piece of art she goes to destroy, frowning when the wings and shadows of his mate get shredded by two tattooed hands. Jealousy courses through him nearly immediately as he watches Elain’s soft features on the paper swirl down as well. 

 

“It’s a piece I made for Elain and Azriel,” Feyre says, the spite still in her voice. “I guess that ship sank down  _ heavily _ to the bottom of the ocean. Shot by a canon named  **_Cazriel_ ** .” The High Lady smiled at him then, having finished tossing out the art she’d dismissed. Cassian went to ask, but Rhysand walked in then smiling brightly at his Lady. “That’s the name she’s come up with for you and Azriel.” He says, softly kissing Feyre on her cheek.

 

Rhysand seemed calm enough,  _ the conversation with Azriel must’ve gone well then _ . “Yes! Your  _ shipname _ !” Feyre says excitedly, stepping into Rhysand’s embrace and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Shipname…?” Cassian asked, confusion written all over his face, making his female friend roll her eyes at him. “Yes. A ship, needs a shipname,  _ especially _ when it’s canon.” The Warrior seeks some sort of explanation in his High Lord’s eyes, but all Rhysand is looking at is his mate, with utter adoration. It makes him even more jealous. 

 

“What  _ is _ a ‘ship’ even? I mean, aside from the actual useful means of transportation.” Cassian realised that he’d snapped at his High Lady, that his sass had been a tad  _ too _ present, but he just couldn’t stop himself. “A  _ ship _ , is when you know two people - who you think would make a  _ great _ couple together. Then you  **_ship_ ** them. In this case, you and Azriel are the two people I know, and I  **ship** **_you_ ** . So you both need a shipname, which is usually a combination of both people’s names! Cassian and Azriel becomes…?” She prompts with a giddy grin. 

 

**_“Cazriel!”_ ** The High Lady shouts happily in synchronised union with The High Lord, jazz hands uncluded.

 

Cassian  _ groans _ , he’s  _ so  _ **_done_ ** ; he shakes his head and rubs his temples to try and stop his upcoming headache. “Where’s Azriel?” He asks Rhysand simply, choosing to ignore the way his friend looked about ready to start making out with his mate. “The last time I saw him; he left for the garden with Elain.”

 

Where annoyance had taken a seat on the throne of Cassian’s emotions,  _ jealousy _ kicks it right off - and completely out of his body, a sudden  _ need _ burning hotly under his skin. He’s storming out the study, letting the door slam behind him so hard it bounces back off the wall, and marches off towards the garden.

 

——————————————————

 

Azriel  _ feels _ Cassian long before he actually  **sees** him; his body filling itself from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head with not the simple jealousy he'd felt earlier from his mate. No, it's  _ more _ ; it's  _ frustration _ ,  **_desperation_ ** ,  **_desire_ ** . 

 

The moment the warrior actually does step into the garden, he stops dead in his tracks. For his mate locks eyes with him immediately, and all Cassian’s emotions silence under the _screaming_ of those of his mate. Azriel is _dripping_ with it - with **him** , with a primal _want_ , a **_need_** ; complete and utter **_arousal_**. It makes Cassian’s _mouth_ **_water_** , nearly has his eyes roll _back_ in their sockets. 

 

Azriel is _so_ ** _through_** with him. So _done_ giving in to Cassian’s _overprotective_ **waiting** \- however sweet, and _caring_. He’s _so_ ** _ready_**. It takes his breath away. So one moment he's seated on the bench, eyes locked with his mate in a heated stare - the next he he’s standing up and walking; until he’s right in front of Cassian, reaching blindly for his hand - because he _doesn’t_ break their eye contact, not even for a second.

 

Then Azriel winnows them away - into their  _ bedroom _ -onto their  **_bed_ ** ; and he pins Cassian to the pillows with  _ urgency _ .

 

**_“I’m done waiting, Cassian. If you won’t take me; I’ll take you.”_ **

 

——————————————————

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will happen. I promise. Eventually.
> 
> @xxxxWitlee is working on it. She is. I've gotten tortured first handed.
> 
> We're up to no good however, and one can't have sunshine without a little rain...
> 
> hehehehehe
> 
> ...
> 
> Tasha: Yoh... hold the evil cackling, that aint even happening in 2 chapters. First let pleasure take a hold of everyone before you cold shower everyone!!


End file.
